


Patrick is Not Ryan Reynolds

by middyblue (daisyblaine)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Halloween, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyblaine/pseuds/middyblue
Summary: David does not handle scary movies well. Patrick knows this. David watches the Blair Witch Project anyway.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 16
Kudos: 108





	Patrick is Not Ryan Reynolds

**Author's Note:**

> A banter prompt by [fishyspots](http://fishyspots.tumblr.com) on tumblr: _“are you responsible for this?”_ Thank you! The line is about halfway down but I promise it’s there.

In hindsight, leaving David to a movie night with Stevie the day before Halloween was not one of Patrick’s smartest moves. 

One Halloween, back when they were first dating, David had talked Stevie into watching the Amityville Horror starring Ryan Reynolds and he’d looked askance at Patrick for _days_ afterwards. Patrick had worried that he’d done something wrong until he realized that David just half-expected him to become possessed. Once they talked about it and it seemed like David had gotten over it, David agreed to give him a heads-up in the future before watching horror movies, for the sake of their relationship. Honestly, though, it had been a little flattering that he could be Ryan Reynolds in David’s mind. 

Since that incident, he’d tried to gently steer David toward the more fun Halloween movies: Practical Magic, Hocus Pocus, Ghostbusters, even The Nightmare Before Christmas. 

But this year on October 30th there’d been a seminar on franchising small businesses and even though they hadn’t really talked seriously about doing it, it felt like it was information that Patrick wanted to have filed away in his head. Just in case. 

So he’d gone out to Thornbridge and told David he’d be back late, fully expecting David to have Stevie over for a movie night with face masks and wine and whatever else they got up to that he was fine with not participating in. 

He finally pulled into the driveway around eleven that night and mentally thanked David for leaving on the outdoor lights so that he could see his way to the front door without using his phone light. He got out of the car and stretched, his spine popping, before grabbing his bag from the passenger seat. The door closed with a thunk and he bipped the lock and everything seemed _normal_. He didn’t even register that Halloween was coming up, except that the wind picked up and some dry leaves floated down around him in the dark. 

He naïvely thought to himself that it was really nice to have such a classic fall evening outside and a warm home and husband waiting for him. Maybe he could have a cuddle on the couch with David while he watched the evening news. 

He really should have known better. 

Inside, he called out to let David know he was home as he dropped his bag on the entrance table. He locked the door and then turned to face the boot stand in the corner of the entrance hall to put his boots away, wondering if David might have left him any dinner in the fridge, and out of nowhere David _screamed_ behind him and his heart might have actually stopped. 

“Jesus Christ,” he swore, pressing his hand to his chest as he turned around. He could _literally_ feel his heart pounding. 

“Oh thank god,” David said, sounding relieved, and leaned against the door frame, his head tilted back. 

“What the fuck, David?” 

“Nothing,” David said, his voice pitched high. 

“I think I may actually be having a heart attack.” 

“Sorry.” David winced. “So, um. How was the seminar?” 

“I maybe need to sit down.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” 

David followed him to the kitchen and started chatting to Patrick like nothing was wrong; he pulled out takeout containers from the fridge and started spooning leftover Chinese food into a plate for him as Patrick sat at the kitchen island. 

“Alexis is planning a Hamilton-themed sweet sixteenth for some big record exec’s daughter this weekend and she had the _gall_ to ask if I wanted to help. Like I’d go all the way to the NYU-infested lower east side just for her to force me to dress up in a powdered wig and a crown.” 

“Why would you be King George?” 

“And she’s dating someone new, she said, but she won’t tell me _who_ ,” David continued, ignoring his quite valid point. “On second thought, maybe I _will_ go to New York, just to make her tell me. She wants me to guess,” he added, waving an orange sauce-covered spoon at Patrick. “She wants the intrigue. Well, I’m not playing along.” 

Patrick bit his tongue and took the plate from David, setting it in the microwave to run for two minutes on 70% power, ignoring David’s eyeroll. He never bothered to do more than guess at one or two minutes and just listen for it to start sizzling, but Patrick preferred to have his food warmed through instead of burnt on the outside and still frozen on the inside. 

When it beeped, David handed him a pair of stainless steel chopsticks he’d found on etsy and sat across from him at the island with a second pair. As he ate, David leaned on his elbows, picking pieces of chicken off his plate. 

“So how _was_ the seminar?” 

“Good! Lots of good information.” 

“Uh huh. So where are you thinking of franchising the store?” 

“Well, nowhere yet. I just thought it would be a good idea to get the basics.” 

“Sure,” David said, nodding, his eyebrows pulled together. He stole a piece of broccoli from Patrick’s plate and crunched it. “So not, like, Brooklyn, for example.” 

“Well, I mean, maybe,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual. David quirked his mouth, seeing right through him, as always. “Would you want to?” 

David chewed thoughtfully and Patrick shifted in his seat. 

“I just thought that I might as well learn a little about it, in case you did at some point in the future.” 

“I’ll think about it,” David said finally, a smile pulled to the side. He leaned across the island to press a kiss to Patrick’s mouth and Patrick felt his shoulders relax. 

“Want to catch the news with me?” Patrick asked hopefully, getting up to rinse his plate off. 

“Only if you shower. I love you, but you smell like the BO of a dozen bros crammed into a hotel conference room together for eight hours.” 

Patrick frowned at him and gingerly sniffed under his arm. Yeah, okay. 

Everything was normal again when Patrick got to sit under a tartan wool blanket in his pyjamas with David and watch the news with the volume turned down, sipping a hot mug of peppermint tea. It was so normal that he almost forgot David being weird earlier, even if he was a little clingier than usual, his hand curled around Patrick’s thigh under the blanket. Patrick was just so cozy and happy that when the news was over, he switched off the TV to go to bed and hopefully make out with his husband a little, inadvertently plunging the room into darkness, and felt David fully freeze on the couch next to him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand on David’s knee over the blanket. “Did you want to watch one of the late-night shows?” 

“I’m fine,” David said shrilly. “Could you turn the light on, though?” 

“Okay, what is with you?” 

“Nothing!” 

“Alright. Bed?” 

David scrambled off the couch to follow so closely behind him that he stepped on Patrick’s heels. Patrick gave him a look and David grimaced back at him. 

Still, Patrick didn't think that anything was _wrong_ , just that David maybe spooked himself being in the house alone for the evening, after six years of tripping over his family in the motel. He brushed his teeth and climbed into bed next to David, cuddling close to leech off his body heat. The wind blew against their window and Patrick pressed his mouth to the top of David’s head, breathing in the perfumed scent of his hair product, whatever it was. It was getting cold outside, but he was warm and toasty here with David under the covers. Life was good. Life was _great_. 

He woke up at three in the morning to the light of David’s phone in his face. 

“David?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. David winced. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“‘S wrong?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Really? Still?” he groaned, sitting up. He dropped his head onto David’s shoulder, too tired to sit up properly. 

David swallowed and gave Patrick a half-hearted smile. “Can’t sleep.” 

“Okay, what is it? You’re starting to make me nervous.” 

The wind gusted and whistled, making the trees creak outside their window, and David’s head whipped around, wide-eyed. 

“Oh my god,” Patrick said, finally realizing. 

“I’m fine!” 

“You watched a scary movie.” 

David’s mouth opened and closed. 

“David.” Patrick rubbed his forehead. “I thought we talked about this!” 

“Okay, but Stevie said --” 

“Stevie.” 

“I just wanted to watch a classic!” 

“Which was…?” 

“The Blair Witch Project,” David said, crooking his jaw and flicking his eyes to the side. 

“Oh my god.” 

“It was good! But then Stevie left and you took _forever_ getting home --” 

“It’s fake, David. It’s all made-up. There is no witch.” 

“I _know_ that. I just also know that there are things out there beyond our comprehension and maybe it’s not the dumbest thing in the world to have a _little_ bit of room for belief in the unknown.” 

“Okay, David. Can we please go back to sleep now?” 

“Sure. I’m just going to finish reading this article first, though,” David said, scrunching his face. “It’s very interesting and long and detailed.” Patrick sighed and rolled over. 

At the store the next day, David yawned all through opening until Patrick went and got them some coffees. He felt like he needed the caffeine, too, even more than he preferred having tea in the morning. To his credit, David went and got them refills while Patrick was busy with a customer. 

“So basically body milk is like a lotion but lighter,” Patrick was explaining to a skeptical-looking middle-aged woman when David walked back in with the coffee tray. 

The customer’s kid wandered around the store, picking things up and putting them down in the wrong spot, and Patrick flicked his eyes over at him and then at David. David nodded and held his coffee close to his mouth as he leaned faux-casually against the wall by the kid to keep an eye on him. 

“So why wouldn’t I just use lotion?” the customer asked. 

“You can. The milk just absorbs better and it has a little more oil to hydrate your skin.” 

“With your skin type, I’d get the milk,” David chimed in. The customer looked between them and Patrick shrugged. 

“He knows what he’s talking about.” 

“Okay. I guess I’ll try it.” 

“Great! I can ring you up over here.” 

The bell over the door dinged and Stevie walked in, cradling a coffee as big as David’s, making a beeline for him. 

Patrick smiled at the customer as she paid and, as he reached under the counter for a tote bag, her kid pulled one of the twig pencils from the jar and all of them came out, spilling onto the floor in a clatter. 

“Oh, Josh! I’m so sorry,” she said to Patrick. “He’ll pick them up.” 

“No need,” he said with a smile. “We can do it.” He handed her the bag and she thanked him and turned to go, stepping around the mess. 

Almost as one, David and Stevie gasped, Stevie clutching at David’s arm. The customer looked around at them and then at Patrick, and he put on his politest smile. 

“Thanks for coming. Let us know how the milk works out.” 

After she left he turned to face David and Stevie, his hands on his hips. David, white-faced, stared down at the pile of pencil twigs on the floor. Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Are you responsible for this?” Patrick asked Stevie exasperatedly, gesturing at David’s face. She grimaced. 

“He wanted to watch a classic,” she said defensively. 

“Excuse me! It was your idea!” David protested. 

“My idea?!” 

“Great. Can you two clean this up? I need a break.” 

David winced. 

“Sorry, Patrick.” 

“Yeah, sorry, Patrick,” Stevie echoed. 

“Can you, um, come back before it gets dark, though?” 

“Sure,” Patrick said with a sigh, shaking his head. He took his coffee and went out across the square to the cafe to talk to Twyla for a while. 

“You seem tired,” she commented, tilting her head. 

“Yeah, David and Stevie watched the Blair Witch Project last night and we didn’t get much sleep.” He smiled gratefully at the mug of tea she set in front of him to replace his empty coffee cup. 

“Ooh, that’s a good one! You know we have one of those here?” 

“What?” 

“A ghost story! Or a witch story, I guess you’d call it.” 

“Really.” 

“Yeah, Miss Heather! She was an old schoolteacher or something and died out in the woods. They say she haunts it around Halloween.” 

“Nobody actually believes that, though,” he said with a laugh. 

“Sure,” she said, wiping down a glass. “Well, mostly not. But around this time of year, I just stay away from the woods. You hear weird things out there sometimes. And once I swear I saw someone in a long dirty white dress out by the creek. Better safe than possessed, as my mom’s ex-boyfriend would say.” 

“He would?” 

“Oh, yeah, he was a very devout priest. Not while dating her, but before and after. Um. How’s Alexis doing?” 

“Great, I think,” Patrick said, grabbing onto the change in topic. “She’s putting together a Hamilton-themed party in New York so she’s pretty busy.” 

“Good for her,” Twyla said, looking genuinely pleased. Patrick smiled back, thanked her for the tea, and headed back toward the store. 

Stevie hung around until closing, despite not helping whatsoever. She cracked open a bottle of wine and they shared it, watching kids in cute costumes go by outside trick-or-treating. 

“So are we done watching scary movies?” Patrick asked, a few cups in. His face felt warm. Sitting next to him, David gripped his knee, rubbing his other hand up and down Patrick’s shoulder. 

“I guess,” Stevie said, shaking her head. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the opportunity, though.” 

“What opportunity?” David asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“You know: Oh, Patrick, I’m so scared, come hold me.” 

“That is _not_ how I sound.” 

“That’s _exactly_ how you sound.” 

“Is that what this is about?” Patrick asked, amused. 

“Wha-- maybe.” 

“David!” 

“Fine! Maybe I missed you and Stevie said it would take my mind off it and then I was alone in the house for _hours_ with that stupid movie in my head and we are getting off topic.” 

“To be clear, the topic is sex,” Stevie said, tilting her cup of wine. 

“No!” 

“Cuddling?” She wrinkled her nose. “You haven’t even been married two months and you’ve already regressed to cuddling?” 

“Our sex life is just fine, thanks so much. I think you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not, actually, but thank you for that.” 

“You’re not jealous?” Patrick could feel David perking up. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

“That I’m not jealous of your sex life with Patrick? I mean, no offence, Patrick, but you’re not really my type.” 

“None taken,” Patrick said. He downed the rest of his wine. 

“You’re dating someone!” David accused her, sloshing wine over the rim of his cup. 

“What?” Patrick asked. Stevie blushed. 

“I am not.” 

“You are! You -- oh my god,” David said, flinching. “Oh, my _god_.” 

“David --” 

“My sister?” 

“David --” 

“You and my _sister_?” 

“It just happened, okay?” 

“Oh my god.” 

“I was in New York to meet with our investors and we had dinner and one thing led to another….” 

“So this was all just a big cover-up,” David said, gesturing broadly and spilling even more wine from his cup. 

“We didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“Well, happy Halloween. I am scared and disgusted.” 

“That’s a little harsh, David,” Patrick said. David pointed a finger at him and Patrick raised his eyebrows. 

“Whatever. Can we head home while it’s still light out?” 

“Really, David?” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, I’m with David,” Stevie said quickly, and Patrick was outnumbered. 

They dropped Stevie off first at her apartment and then made their way back to the house as the sun set. It had been years since Patrick had seen the Blair Witch Project himself, but he could remember flashes of the woods, and he had to remind himself that the trees around the car were just trees, even if they did throw eerily long shadows across the darkening road. He saw a glimpse of something white that was probably just a piece of paper blowing in the wind and not the skirt of a witch’s dress, and it waved at him in his rearview mirror. When they pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, the towering oaks around the house that he’d loved when they bought it now seemed almost menacing; he could hear kids shrieking and laughing in the distance and a chill ran up his spine. 

David, too, was darting his eyes around the trees that sat back on the property, and they both hurried inside without saying a word. Patrick barely breathed until the door was closed and firmly bolted behind him and then he looked at David, who was clearly fighting a smile. 

“Don’t,” he warned, laughing a little. 

“Let’s blame Stevie,” David said generously. 

“I’ll put candy out front and then maybe we can just hang out and not think about the witch that definitely doesn’t exist?” 

“Won’t the candy attract the witch, though?” 

“David.” 

“Wouldn’t want her to interrupt,” David murmured, slinging his arms over Patrick’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss him. “I’ve got plans.” 

“‘Oh Patrick, I’m scared, come hold me?’” 

“Don’t,” David warned, grinning. “If you quote Stevie at me I will not be having sex with you.” 

“Understood.” He kissed David firmly, brushing his thumb across David’s jaw. “I’ll do the candy. Meet me in the bedroom?” 

“Deal. Bring some back with you, though.” 

Patrick hurried to the kitchen and quickly dumped the bags of fun-sized candy into the cute pumpkin bowl he’d found at the dollar store, which he then put out on the front step with a sign: _Take two, please! Happy Halloween!_ He flipped on the outdoor light and then double-checked that the door was locked. He went around checking all the locks, turning out the lights, and then found David in the bedroom, sitting expectantly against the pillows, wearing only his underwear. He dropped his handful of candy bars on the dresser and admired his husband. 

“Hello, Mister Brewer,” David said, lisping, and smiled to show off the plastic vampire teeth in his mouth. “Von’t you come into my lair?” 

Patrick laughed out loud and David beamed. Tripping across the room, Patrick unzipped his pants, kicked them off, and unbuttoned his shirt as he climbed onto the bed, leaning over David, whose eyes sparkled up at him. David slipped his hands inside Patrick’s undone shirt and gently pushed it off, dropping it to the side, and then rolled him over, David’s knees on either side of Patrick’s hips. 

“Are you going to have your way with me, your highness?” Patrick asked, grinning up at him. David sat back on Patrick’s knees and tilted his head. 

“Wait, am I royalty in this scenario?” 

“I thought all vampires were royalty.” 

“Where did you read that?” 

“Aren’t they all counts or dukes or something?” 

“That can’t be right.” David leaned over and grabbed his phone from his bedside table, still straddling Patrick. 

“Are you googling right now?” 

“Shh. Count David is concentrating.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“There are so many romance novel vampires that I genuinely can’t tell,” David said suddenly, frowning. 

“David.” 

“What the hell. This is way too many fictional vampires.” 

“David, put your phone down, please.” 

Still frowning, David put his phone back. Patrick reached up to cup his face and gently pulled him down for a kiss, a little awkward with David’s fake teeth still in. 

“Do we need the teeth in the whole time?” Patrick murmured against his mouth. David kissed him and nipped at his lip, one of the plastic pointed teeth dragging, and drew a gasp from Patrick’s throat. “Yeah, okay. Teeth stay in.” 

David smiled, the teeth poking out, and laced their fingers together, spreading their hands above Patrick’s head. He ground his hips down against Patrick’s and kissed his jaw, open-mouthed, the teeth scraping at Patrick’s five-o-clock stubble, and David laughed against his skin unselfconsciously as Patrick’s back arched. 

Outside, the trees creaked in the wind. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can reblog [here](https://middyblue.tumblr.com/post/631631632734076928/7-are-you-responsible-for-this) and find me at [middyblue](http://middyblue.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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